


Sleepwalker

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Episode Related, Improv, M/M, Points of View, Season/Series 05, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-04
Updated: 2005-06-04
Packaged: 2018-12-27 04:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12073428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: After things in L.A. don`t go the way he planned, Justin comes back to Pitts.





	Sleepwalker

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

A/N : This story is Justin`s POV and the timeline is QAF ep #502, so if you didn`t see that ep, this could be considered spoilerish for you. Not my fault, though. ;) And just to mention, this is written for "On Impulse" LJ community. :) Words for **Improv #11** were : rebellion, dreams, colorblind, pipe dreams, horizon. So, enjoy. *grins* Any crimes committed against english language are my own, cause I just didn't have the time to run this through my beta. :( So, I'm very sorry for that. But, I really hope it won't suck completely, since this is my first improv fic. Of course, as always, some feedback would be more than welcome. :)

* * *

At the exact moment that Justin's plane touches the Pittsburgh ground, he actually aknowledges what really happened. It takes some time, but it finally hits him. 

Really hard.

While the plane rolls down the endless runway, he blindly stares out the window, so many contradicting emotions churning deep inside his stomach. 

On one hand, he realizes that the second he exits the sanctuary of the plane, his L.A. **dreams** will be over. Probably once and for all. And right now, he's just not ready to deal with that fact yet. But on the other hand, he is really insanely happy to be back home. Just a sweet notion, that anytime today, he would see his family and friends again, somehow balances out his disappointment.

And Brian. 

God, how he missed him. 

He never really guessed how long three months would feel. Or how alone he would actually be, waking up in the middle of the night.

The truth is, first nights in L.A. were the worst.

Back home, his anxiety levels were almost nonexistent. Probably because almost 90 % of his nights were spent with Brian. In the man's arms. In his bed. Security just a moment away. But in L.A., there was no such security. Except for the alarm system, that Brett installed years ago.

What Justin missed there were the simple things.

A touch of Brian's hand. 

Loose hugs that Brian would pull him in on his usual walk-bys through the loft. His face burried in Justin's neck. Always acting as if he didn't really care if anyone saw what Justin means to him, but doing his very best to leave a hickey on the most visible place possible. Justin genuinely loved those times. But Brian was miles away then, trying to live his own life.

Those first few nights were a real nightmare, and through some of those nights, Justin would just sit still on his bed in the dark, desperately fighting sleep.

A phone just a stretch of an arm away.

Those nights were everything but the **rebellion** , that has been Justin's guiding light to L.A. His courage and fearlessness simply melting away, like an icecream in the sun. And when Connor pierced his bubble of hope, he was literally sick. In all actuality, although he knew he would be seen as a pathetic sissy, he wanted to fall to his knees and cry his eyes out the second Connor said it was all over. Fortunately, he didn't.

He just wished he could crawl back inside the glass house he once resided in, happily ignorant of the reality surrouding him. But, ironically, L.A. wasn't that sort of town.

Despite all the glitzy shine of the city, of the money exchanged between unknown hands, real celebrities and wannabes, both hunting the L.A. streets, it was really all about heartache. About **pipe dreams** , thought of in the heads of smalltown Pollyanas. Just a wistful wishing, that was never meant to be fulfilled.

Christ, as if he didn't have enough heartache as it is...

But the thing is, after that entire Pink Posse "incident", as Justin likes to refer to it these days, Los Angeles looked like a happiness mecca to him. Hot sun all day every day and more hot guys than he had hours in a day. It sounded like a fucking paradise. 

He would be the big cajuna, all shinny and important working on a groundbreaking movie project - the first gay superhero. One more tiny step in the right direction, and he could even be more than Brett could ever promise him. If he only knew how fast his whole world could be crumbling down like a house of cards.

The funny thing is... Brian knew.

Looking back now, Justin can easily pinpoint all the bread crumbs that Brian left for him. All Brian's unfinished sentences and swallowed warnings. But as always, Justin chose to ignore it. Push it in the back of his mind.

They do, after all, say, that ignorance is a bliss.

Well, if that is true, Justin was an incorrigible junkie, blissed out of his fricking mind. Simply floating away on the cloud of his own ignorance. He was just like a sleepwalker, unseeningly following his inner push to the places unknown. And people always say that you should never wake up a sleepwalker without a fair warning. 

So, nobody dared to wake Justin up either. What would be a point of that, really? He needed to do it all on his own and everyone knew that. So, they let him be. And then, they just waited for the other shoe to drop. 

It always did.

As the taxi nears its destination, Justin sweeps his eyes over the well-known **horizon** , that stretches before him. Somehow, it seems as if all those months of staring into bright California sun made him **colorblind** to everything he left here. It felt like all wordly treasures were spread in front of him, while he was left stranded on the opposite side of the shore. Waiting for someone. Waiting for Brian to save him and bring him back home. 

Wishing for something to cure his loneliness, even for just an hour, for a minute. 

A second.

But noone came.

Of course, he can admit to himself now that those first nights in L.A. were everything he didn't want. Falling asleep alone on the other side of the continent with nothing to call his own. Nothing that could keep him grounded or chase his nightmares away.

He could fuck all the hot guys he wanted during the day. Living there like a hot shot, a worn-out cliche that L.A. hungers for. But, his nights always belonged to Brian. And lying awake in the bed, Justin couldn't help but think about him. Because, at the end of the day, all those nameless men either of them fucked meant absolutely nothing. Just bodies that filled the void. Unfortunately, only being away from Pitts made him realize the real truth in Brian's words. 

God forbid for Justin Taylor to do something the easy way... 

And looking around, Justin thinks that Tremont never looked more inviting or more terrifying than it does now. 

The taxi finally stops in front of the building. He pays his fare and takes his stuff from the trunk. As the car drives off, his eyes find Brian's loft window. Light is on, which means he most likely isn't alone. Well, it really doesn't matter. Justin just wants to see his face. Everything else is just a damn smoke screen anyway.

Once upstairs, he unlocks the door and lets himself in, pulling his bags inside the loft. He can hear his excited heart beating in his ears, a breath lodging itself in his throat as he walks closer to the bedroom.

Sure enough, he can see Brian behind the glass wall, his magnificent body bathed in white light. Wait a second. A _white_ light? Justin blinks. When did _that_ happen? He will definitely have to ask Brian about it later.

Entering the bedroom slowly, his mind brings to surface all those moans and groans that Brian always makes, right before orgasm hits him. God, at that particular moment, Justin could bet his perfectly working left arm, that the best artists in the world wouldn't be able to successfully transfer on the canvas all the beauty that his eyes feast upon.

Brian's olive skin, slick with sweat, is glistening in the half dark room. And suddenly... Brian's gaze rests on him. A moment of recognition and Brian grins at the familiar blue eyes. Justin watches carefully as a climax sky-rockets through Brian's body, making him even more beautiful than ever before. Finally, with a grin still stuck firmly on his face, Brian speaks up.

"How was your flight?"

That's all it takes. 

Thoughts of California are pushed in the background, and all his attention is focused on just one point.

On the one and only Brian Kinney.

For the first time after three longest fucking months in his damn life, he feels like he can breathe freely. So, he does.

Keeping the eye contact, Justin exhales and smiles happily at his lover. That connection is what he craved for. What keeps him alive, when everything else fails miserably.

As he stands there, Justin is painfully awake now and he realizes how fucking good it actually feels to be home again. How sweet it is to breathe the same air as Brian does. Because, after everything is said and done, the simple truth of it is, Pitts beats any Brianless destination without even trying. 

And most likely, it always will.


End file.
